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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 





TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

















































































































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Undine. 


TOLD IN THE .* .* 

w* TWILIGHT 


Stories to tell to Children.- 

— — — - With Picturings 

By BLANCHE HcHANUS 




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20903 


Copyright, 1898, 

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E. R. Herrick & Company. 


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TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



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CONTENTS. 


PAGBT 

Undine, the Water Maid, who Wedded a Mortal 9 

Rip Van Winkle and his Long Nap 12 

The Swineherd 16 

Dick Whittington and his Cat 24 

The Dragon of Wantley 36 

A Voyage to Fairyland 40 

The Ugly Duckling 45* 

Robin Hood and his Merry Men 60 

The Discontented Pendulum 78 

The Pied Piper of Hamelin 82 



TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT 


UNDINE, THE WATER MAID, WHO WED- 
DED A MORTAL. 

Who was Undine? Why, just the most beautiful 
Rhine maiden who ever existed, but she wanted to be a 
mortal and to leave the lovely caves below the waters 
and become a commonplace human being. So her great 
uncle Ktihleborn, who was ruler of the spirits of the 
waters, made a mighty storm, and Undine, in the shape 
of a tiny baby, was washed to the shore of a lake, where 
the old fisher people who had lost their own child 
adopted her. 

As a little girl Undine often amazed her foster parents 
by her queer sayings and doings. She would play among 
the waves of the lake, and often would mysteriously dis- 
appear for days at a time- 

Now when she had grown up, a knight rode through 
the forest and stopped with the old fisher people, and 
that night another storm rose, and the lake burst its 
bound and encircled the house, so that they were cut off 


9 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT 


from land, and saw no way ever to rejoin the rest of the 
world. A priest was wrecked below their hut, and the 
next day Huldbrand, the knight, married Undine, who at 
once became mortal — the sweetest, gentlest, loveliest bride 
knight ever had. Then the lake sank down to its usual 
size, and straightway the knight bore off his bride. But 
Kuhleborn followed them through the forest — now as a 
brook, and then as a waterfall — always near to watch 
over Undine. For a long time they were very happy; 
but a lady at the court, Bertalda, had loved the knight 
herself before ever he met Undine, and still loved him ; 
so she did her best to persuade him that the fair Undine 
was a witch. Undine thought that a person who was so 
cruel must be unhappy, and thought it was because she 
was an orphan, so she found out through the water-fairies 
that Bertalda was the lost daughter of the fisher-folk, her 
foster parents, and sent for them. But Bertalda was 
furious at being discovered to be a peasant, and hated 
Undine still more, and did more to set Huldbrand' against 
his bride. Now Undine knew if her husband was cruel 
to her or loved another, she would have to kill him and 
rejoin the water-people; so she did her best by loving 
ways to inspire him with faith, but he grew more and 
more suspicious, especially when Undine had the great 
well of the castle covered with a huge stone, for she 
feared lest Huldbrand’s treatment would cause the Rhine 


10 


UNDINE. 


fairies, who could only enter the castle by that spring, to 
do him injury.' 

Afterwards, much against her wish, she went with her 
knight, and Bertalda, for a tour on the Rhine. And here 
one day her husband called her a witch, and in a violent 
rage bade her go back to her people; so she vanished 
over the side of the boat and melted like water into the 
stream. 

Huldbrand grieved bitterly, but after a while was com- 
forted by Bertalda’s love, and married her. The new 
bride, eager to display her power, ordered the castle well 
to be uncovered, when a pillar of water rose, that changed 
into the form of Undine, who, wringing her hands, 
walked to Huldbrand’s chamber, where they found him 
dead in her arms. They buried him, and a bubbling 
spring gushed from the turf by his grave, encircling it ere 
it flowed into the lake. Thus does Undine still hold her 
loved knight in her embrace. 


XI 


RIP VAN WINKLE AND HIS LONG NAP. 

Past New York, right up the Hudson River, you come 
to great mountains — called the Catskills — which are 
otherwise known as the “ Kaatsberg.” Long ago there 
lived in a village, at the foot of one of these tree-clad 
hills, a Dutchman named Kip Yan Winkle, who had a 
wife, a grumbling, bad-tempered woman ; a son, a young 
Kip ; and a blue-eyed daughter, whom he loved dearly. 
The old Kip was a lazy, good-natured fellow, fond of sit- 
ting outside the village inn and gossiping in the shade 
beneath the sign-board which bore a portrait of King 
George III., for America was then an English colony. 
One summer evening when poor Kip Yan Winkle had 
been scolded by his wife, who had routed him out of his 
favorite seat, he scrambled up the mountain for peace and 
quiet with his dog and his gun, and threw himself on a 
green knoll, and dozed. 

He was aroused by hearing some one call “Kip Van 
Winkle ! Kip Yan Winkle 1” His dog Wolf growled and 
skulked to his master’s side, as a curious dwarf approached 
them carrying a keg of liquor on his shoulders; he made 
12 


Rip Van Winkle. 



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RIP VAN WINKLE . 


signs for Rip to help him carry his burden up the moun- 
tain, and they climbed in silence, broken only by long 
rolling peals like distant thunder, until they came to an 
open space, where Rip saw a company of odd-looking 
personages playing at nine-pins. They were dressed in 
short doublets, with great knives stuck in their belts, and 
wore enormous breeches, each had a long beard and 
a queue, and each wore a high-pointed hat, with a crown 
like a sugar-loaf and a broad brim. By and by they 
induced Rip to join them, and he found the noise he had 
taken for thunder was caused by their balls as they rolled 
along the mountain sides. After awhile they offered him 
a flagon of hollands, which he drank and fell down in a 
deep sleep. 

When he woke it was bright sunshine, his first thought 
was, What excuse shall I make to Dame Winkle? He 
looked round for his gun, but iu place of the clean, well- 
oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock, its barrel 
crusted with rust, its lock falling off, and the stock worm- 
eaten. Wolf was gone, nor in spite of his whistling could 
he bring him back. As he clambered down toward the 
village, the people he met seemed dressed in a different 
fashion from that he had known, and they all stared at 
him and stroked their chins. As Rip did the same he 
found he had a beard a foot long. He approached his 
house, it had fallen into ruins; a half-starved dog snarled 


13 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT 


at him, and Rip was sad to find that Wolf, as he thought, 
had forgotten him. He called for his wife, but no answer 
came. So he strolled on to the village inn, but in place 
of the quiet little house, he found a great building with 
a flag of stars and stripes fluttering above it, and a sign 
with a head, entitled “ General Washington.” He asked 
in vain for his old friends. “ Does nobody here know Rip 
Yan Winkle ?” he shouted. 

“ Oh, yes, there he is,” said two or three voices at once? 
and he looked up and saw a man exactly like he was 
wheu he went up the mountain. 

Then he saw a comely woman, and as she spoke to her 
little boy, “ Hush, Rip, the old man won’t hurt you,” he 
seemed to know her voice. “ What was your father’s 
name ?” he said. 

“ Ah, poor man, Rip Yan Winkle was his name, but 
it’s twenty years since he went away from home with his 
gun, and has never been heard of since his dog came 
home without him.” 

“ Where is your mother?” he asked. 

“ She died some time ago,” she replied. 

“ I am your father,” the poor man said ; and then a 
very old woman came forward and said: 

“ Sure enough it’s Rip Yan Winkle himself. Well, old 
neighbor, where have you been these twenty years ?” 

But nobody believed the story he told, yet they were 

14 


RIP WAN WINKLE. 


kind to him, and he soon grew very happy, for there was 
no cross Dame Van Winkle to worry him ; and if any one 
wants to know more about him, a famous writer named 
Washington Irving has told the story much better than it 
is told here in his “ Sketch-Book.” 


15 


THE SWINEHERD. 


There was once a poor prince ; he had a kingdom that 
was very small ; still it was quite large enough to marry 
upon; and he wished to marry. 

It was certainly rather cool of him to say to the em- 
peror’s daughter, “ Will you have me?” But so he did ; 
for his name was renowned far and wide ; and there was 
a hundred princesses who would have answered, “ Thank 
you.” But see what she said. Now we will hear. 

By the grave of the prince’s father there grew a rose 
tree — a most beautiful rose tree; it blossomed only once 
in every five years, and even then bore only one flower, but 
that was a rose that smelled so sweet as to make one 
forget all cares and sorrows. 

And furthermore, the prince had a nightingale, who 
could sing in such a manner that it seemed as though all 
sweet melodies dwelt in her little throat. So the princess 
was to have the rose and the nightingale ; and they w r ere 
accordingly put into large silver caskets, and sent to her. 

The emperor had them brought into a large hall, where 
the princess was playing at “making calls,” with the 
ladies of the court ; they never did anything else, and when 
she saw the caskets with the presents, she clapped her 
hands for joy. 


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The Swineherd. 






































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THE SWINEHERD . 


“ Ah, if it were but a little pussy-cat !” exclaimed she; 
then out came the beautiful rose. 

“ Oh, how prettily it is made !” said all the court ladies’. 

“It is more than pretty,” said the emperor; “it is 
charming !” 

But the princess touched it, and was almost ready to 
cry. 

“ Fie, papa !” said she, “it is not made at all; it is 
natural !” 

“Fie !” cried all the court ladies; “it is natural!” 

“Let us see what is in the other casket, before we get 
into a bad humor, proposed the emperor. So the nightin- 
gale came forth and sang so delightfully that at first no 
one could say anything ill-humored of it. 

“ Snperbe ! charmant /” exclaimed the ladies; for they 
all used to chatter French, each worse than her neighbor. 

“How much the bird reminds me of the musical box 
that belonged to our blessed empress !” remarked an old 
knight. 

“ Ah yes ! ” said the emperor, and he wept like a little 
child. 

“ I will still hope that it is not a real bird,” said the 
princess. 

“Yet it is a real bird,” said those who had brought it. 

“Well, then let the bird fly,” returned the princess; 
and she positively refused to see the prince. 

17 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

However, he was not to be discouraged ; he daubed his 
face over brown and black, pulled his cap over his ears, 
and knocked at the door. 

“ Good-day, emperor !” said he. “ Can I have employ- 
ment at the palace V 1 

“Oh, there are so many that want a place !” said the 
emperor ; “ well, let me see, I want some one to take care 
of the pigs, for we have a great many of them.” 

So the prince was appointed “Imperial Swineherd.” 
He had a dirty little room close by the pigsty ; and there 
he sat the whole day and worked. By the evening he had 
made a pretty little saucepan. Little bells were hung all 
around it; and when the pot was boiling, these bells 
tinkled in the most charming manner, and played the old 
melody : 

“ Ah! thou dearest Augustin! 

All is gone, gone, gone!” 

But what was still more curious, whoever held his 
finger in the smoke of this saucepan immediately smelled 
all the dishes that were cooking on every hearth in the 
city : this, you see, was something quite different from 
the rose. 

Now the princess happened to walk that way: and 
when she heard the tune, she stood quite still, and seemed 
pleased; for she could play “Dearest Augustine;” and it 

18 


THE SWINEHERD . 


was the only piece she knew, and she played it with one 
finger. 

“ Why, there is my piece !” said the princess ; “ that 
swineherd must certainly have been well educated ! 
Here ! Go in and ask him the price of the instrument.” 

And so one of the court ladies must run in ; however, 
she drew on wooden slippers first. 

“ What will you take for the saucepan ?” inquired the 
lady. 

“ I will have ten kisses from the princess,” said the 
swineherd. 

“ Mercy on us !” said the lady. 

“ Yes, I cannot sell it for less,” said the swineherd. 

“ Well, what does he say?” asked the princess. 

“ I cannot tell you, really,” replied the lady ; “ it is too 
bad !” 

“ Then you can whisper it !” So the lady whispered it. 

“ He is an impudent fellow !” said the princess, and she 
walked on ; but when she had gone a little way, the bells 
tinkled so prettily : 

“Ah! thou dearest Augnstine! 

All is gone, gone, gone!” 

“Stay,” said the princess. “Ask him if he will have 
ten kisses from the ladies of my court.” 

“No, thank you!” answered the swineherd: “ten 
19 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT . 

kisses from the princess, or I keep the saucepan myself.” 

“ That must not be, either !” said the princess ; “ but do 
you all stand before me, that no one may see us.” 

And the court ladies placed themselves in front of her, 
and spread out their dresses; and so the swineherd got 
ten kisses, and she got the saucepan. 

It was delightful ! the saucepan was kept boiling all 
the evening and the whole of the following day. They 
knew perfectly well what was cooking at every fire 
throughout the city, from the chamberlain’s to the cob- 
bler’s; the court ladies danced and clapped their hands. 

“We know who has soup and who has pancakes for 
dinner today, who has cutlets, and who has eggs. How 
interesting !” 

And “ How interesting !” said the lord steward’s wife. 

“Yes, but keep my secret, for I am an ^emperor’s 
daughter.” 

“Mercy on us,” said they all. 

The swineherd — that is to say the prince, for no one 
knew that he was other than an ill-favored swineherd — 
let not a day pass without working at something ; he at 
last constructed a rattle, which, when it was swung 
round, played all the waltzes and jig-tunes which have 
ever been heard since the creation of the world. 

“Ah, that is superbe /” said the princess when she 
passed by ; “I have never heard prettier compositions ! 

20 


THE SWINEHERD. 


Go in and ask him the price of the instrument; but I 
won’t kiss him !” 

“ He will have a hundred kisses from the princess!” 
said the court lady who had been in to ask. 

“ I think he is crazy !” said the princess, and walked on ; 
but when she had gone a little way, she stopped again. 
“ One must encourage art,” said she; “I am the emperor’s 
daughter. Tell him he shall, as on yesterday, have ten 
kisses from me, and the rest from the ladies of the court.” 

“ Oh ! but we should not like that at all !” said the 
court ladies. 

“What are you muttering?” asked the princess: “if I 
can kiss him, surely you can ! Kemember, I give you 
3^our food and wages.” So the court ladies were obliged 
to go to him again. 

“A hundred kisses from the princess!” said he, “or 
c-lse let every one keep his own.” 

“Stand round !” said she; and all the ladies stood 
round her whilst the kissing was going on. 

“ What can be the reason for such a crowd dose by the 
pigsty ?” said the emperor, who happened just then to 
step out on the balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put on 
his spectacles. “ They are the ladies of the court ; there 
is some play going on. I must go down and see what 
they are about!” So he pulled up his slippers at the 
heel, for he had trodden them down. 

21 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

Hey there ! what a hurry he is in. 

As soon as he had got into the courtyard he moved 
very softly, and the ladies were so much engrossed with 
counting the kisses, that all might go on fairly, that they 
did not perceive the emperor. He rose on his tip- 
toes. 

“ What is all this ?” said he, when he saw what was 
going on, and he boxed the princess’ ears with his slip- 
per, just as the swineherd was taking the eighty-sixth 
kiss. 

“ Off with you !” cried the emperor, for he was very 
angry ; and both princess and swineherd were thrust out 
of the city. 

The princess now stood and wept, the swineherd 
scolded, and the rain poured down. 

11 Oh, how miserable I am !” said the princess. “ If I 
had but married the handsome young prince ! Ah ! how 
unfortunate I am !” 

And the swineherd went behind a tree, washed the 
black-and-brown color from his face, threw off his dirty 
clothes, and stepped forth in his princely robes; he looked 
so noble that the princess could not help bowing before 
him. 

“ I am come to despise thee,” said he. “ Thou wouldst 
not have an honorable prince ! thou could st not prize the 
rose and the nightingale, but thou wast ready to kiss the 

22 


THE SWINEHERD. 


swineherd for the sake of a trumpery plaything. Now 
thou hast thy deserts !” 

He then went back to his own little kingdom, and shut 
the door of his palace in her face. Now she might well 
sing : 

“ Ah ! thou dearest Augustine ! 

All is gone, gone, gone \” 

— Hans Christian Andersen. 


28 


DICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT. 

I n the reign of King Edward the Third there lived in 
a small country village a poor couple, named Whitting- 
ton, who had a son called Dick. His parents dying when 
he was very young, he could scarcely remember them at 
all ; and as he was not old enough to work, he was for a 
long time very badly off, until a kind but poor old 
woman took compassion on him, and made her little cot- 
tage his home. She always gave him good advice, made 
him industrious and well behaved, and he became quite 
a favorite in the village. 

At fourteen he had grown up to be a stout, good- 
looking lad, and the good old woman dying, he had to 
look out for himself. He had heard much about the 
wonderful city of London; and he felt very curious to go 
there, and see it with his own eyes; hoping in so great 
and wealthy a place he should get on better than he 
could in a poor country village. 

On a fine summer’s morning he boldly started on his 
journey, with but a trifle of money in his pocket. When 
he bad walked on for some hours, he felt extremely tired, 
and was rather alarmed as to how he was to get over the 
long journey. Soon a heavy wagon advancing along 
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DICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT . 

the road to London was overtaken. Dick, without much 
ado, told the wagoner his plan, and begged him for a lift 
until he was sufficiently rested to allow him to walk again. 
This was agreed to, and so, partly by riding, and partly 
by walking side by side with the wagoner, Dick managed 
to reach the great city. 

His heart beat wdth joy at being really in London, but 
he was a little disappointed. He had fancied a grander 
and richer sort of place than it first seemed to him. A 
very common mistake, indeed. 

After Dick had parted with the wagoner, he had only 
a groat left of his money ; a night’s lodging and a scanty 
meal exhausted this, and after wandering for a whole day, 
and feeling so weary and faint from fatigue and hunger, he 
threw himself down in a doorway, and slept soundly until 
morning. On awakening and observing on the door 
above him a curious-looking knocker, he thought there 
could be no great harm if he lifted the knocker, and 
waited to see who should appear. 

The house belonged to a worthy merchant of the name 
of Fitzwarren, who had a daughter called Alice, of about 
the same age as Dick. A sour-looking, ill-tempered 
woman opened the door, and seeing it was a poor worn- 
out-looking country lad who had disturbed her breakfast, 
she began to abuse him roughly and to order him away. 
Luckily, Mr. Fitzwarren, who was a benevolent, courteous 
25 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT . 


gentleman, came up to the door at this moment, and lis- 
tened attentively to the poor lad’s story; and being 
struck with its truthful aspect, he kindly ordered Dick 
to be taken into the house, and cared for until he should 
be able to get his living decently. 

Alice overheard all this, and did all she could to save 
Dick from the ill-will and harsh treatment of the cook. 
Her parents agreed Dick should remain in the house if 
he would make himself useful. This, however, was not 
easy, for the cook never liked the boy, and took every 
opportunity to spite him. She made him sleep on a 
wretched hard bed, in an old loft, infested with rats and 
mice. Dick dared not to complain ; so he bore with this 
trouble as long as he could, and resolved at length, when 
he should have money enough, to buy himself a cat. 

A very few days from this, a poor woman passing by 
the door offered to sell him a cat for a penny. Dick took 
his prize up to his loft, and kept her in an old wicker 
basket out of the cook’s sight, as he feared she would do 
the cat a mischief. Now and then he would take Pussy 
with him when he went out on errands, so that they soon 
became great friends. Pussy was a capital mouser, and 
very soon got rid of the rats and mice, and was very 
clever and quick in learning many tricks that her master 
taught her. 

One day, when Dick was amusing himself with her 

26 


DICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT. 

antics, lie was surprised by Alice, who became as fond of 
the cat as Dick was himself. This young lady always 
remained the poor lad’s friend, and cheered him up 
under the hard usage of the cook, who ofttimes beat him 
severely. Alice was not beautiful, but, what was of 
greater real value, she was truly amiable in disposition, 
and had the most agreeable manners. It was no wonder, 
then, that Whittington, smarting under ill-treatment, 
should regard his kind young mistress as an angel; while 
the modesty of the youth, his correct conduct, his respect- 
ful demeanor, and his love of truth, interested Alice so 
much in his behalf, that she persuaded her father to let 
him be taught to write — for he could already read. The 
progress he made in this, and in acquiring further knowl- 
edge, was astonishing. 

Mr, Fitzwarren was a merchant ; and it was his custom 
whenever one of his ships went out, to call his family and 
ask them all in turn to make a little venture or specula- 
tion under charge of the captain. Poor Whittington was 
absent when this next happened ; he, poor fellow, felt 
ashamed that he possessed nothing of value to send as his 
venture. But he was called for, and told that he must 
produce something — no matter what — to try his luck. 
He then burst into tears, from very vexation and shame, 
when Alice whispered in his ear, “ Send your cat, Dick,” 
and forthwith he was ordered to take Pussy, his faithful 
27 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

friend and companion, on board, and place her in the 
hands of the captain. The mouser’s good qualities were 
made known to the captain, so that he might make the 
most of her for Dick’s benefit. 

After his loss Dick felt rather sorrowful, and this 
was not lessened by the taunts and jeers of his old 
enemy, the cook, who used to tease him constantly about 
his “fine venture,” and the great fortune he was to make 
by it. Poor fellow ! she led him a miserable life ; and as 
his young mistress, besides, was soon after absent from 
home on a visit, he lost heart entirely, and could no longer 
bear to live m the same house with his tormentor. 

So he resolved to quit Mr Fitzwarren’s house, and 
started off accordingly one morning very early, unob- 
served by any one, and wandered to the foot of Highgate 
Hill. Tired and wretched, he flung himself upon a large 
stone by the roadside, which is called Whittington’s 
Stone to this day. He presently sank into a sort of doze, 
from which he was roused by the sound of Bow bells, 
that began to ring a peal, as it was Allhallows Day. As 
he listened he fancied he could make out the following 
words : 

“ Turn Again, Whittington, 

Lord Mayor of London.” 

A hope was awakened within him as he kept repeating 
these words after the bells. So distinctly did they appear 
28 


DICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT. 

to be addressed to him, that he was resolved to bear any 
hardships rather than check his way to fortune by idle 
repiniug. So he made the best of his way home again. 
Luckily he got into the house without his absence having 
been noticed. 

He exerted himself now more than ever to make himself 
useful, especially to his worthy master and young mistress, 
and succeeded beyond his expectation ; almost everybody 
saw that he tried to do his duty, and to excel in all he 
attempted to do. Alice was more and more satisfied, and 
heard with pleasure of the great progress he w^as making 
in his studies. But the cook continued as surly as ever. 

Mr. Fitzwarren’s ship, the “ Unicorn,” was all this time 
slowly pursuing her voyage to Africa. In those days 
navigation was but little understood, and much greater 
dangers were incurred through ignorance than is now the 
case. The “ Unicorn ” was unlucky and met with much 
foul weather, and was so tossed about that she lost her 
reckoning; but what was worse, owing to her being so 
long away, her provisions were nearly exhausted, and all 
on board began to despair of ever returning to England. 
All through this dreadful period Whittington’s cat was 
kept alive and well , and this no doubt was owing to the 
great care taken of her by the captain himself, who had 
not forgotten the interest Alice had expressed to him 
about the cat. Pussy was thus preserved from death and 
29 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

contrived to bring up a little family of kittens during the 
voyage : tlieir funny tricks greatly diverted the sailors, 
and helped to keep them in good humor when they began 
to feel discontented. 

One day land was descried and proved to be a wealthy 
kingdom of Africa. The inhabitants, who were copper- 
colored, were hospitable, and much pleased to be visited 
by the ships of white men. The King, as soon as he 
heard of the arrival of the “Unicorn,” sent some of his 
great men to invite the captain and a few of his com- 
panions to visit his Court, and to dine with him and his 
Queen. 

A grand dinner, in the fashion of the country, was pro- 
vided ; and great good humor and cordiality prevailed 
until the dishes were placed on the table, when the white 
visitors were astonished at the appearance of rats and 
mice in vast numbers, which came from their hiding- 
places, and devoured nearly all the viands in a very short 
time. The King and Queen seemed to regard this as no 
uncommon event, although they felt quite ashamed it 
should occur at this time. 

When the captain found that there was no such 
animal as a cat known in the country, he thought of 
asking permission to introduce Whittington’s cat at Court, 
feeling convinced that Pussy would soon get rid of the 
abominable rats and mice that infested it. The royal 
30 


DICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT 

pair and the whole Court listened to the account of 
the cat’s qualities as a mouser with wonder and delight, 
and were impatient to see her talents put to proof. Puss 
was accordingly taken ashore, and a fresh repast having 
been prepared, which, on being served up was about to 
be attacked in a similar way to the previous one, she 
sprang in a moment among the crowd of rats and mice, 
killing several, and putting the rest to flight in less than 
the space of a minute. 

Nothing could exceed the satisfaction caused by this 
event. The King and Queen and all the courtiers did 
not know how to make enough of Pussy, and they became 
more and more fond of her when they found how gentle 
and playful she could be. The captain was much pressed 
to leave this valuable cat with his black friends, and he, 
thinking that they would no doubt make a right royal 
return for so precious a gift, readily acceded. The 
Queen’s attachment to Puss knew no bounds, and she felt 
great alarm lest any accident should befall her, fearing 
that in that case the odious rats and mice would return 
more ferocious than ever. 

The Queen had a tender heart, and when she had 
heard from the captain all the particulars of Whitting- 
ton’s story, and of the poor lad’s great regret at parting 
with his cat, she felt quite loth to deprive him of his 
favorite, especially when Pussy’s kittens, which had also 

31 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

been brought from the ship, were found to be quite able 
to frighten away the rats and mice. So the cat was taken 
on board again. The gratitude of the King and Queen for 
the important services rendered by Pussy and her family 
was manifested in the rich treasures they sent to Whit- 
tington as the owner of the wonderful cat. 

The captain, having completed his business and refitted 
his ship as well, took leave of his African friends, and set 
sail for England; and after a very long voyage safely 
arrived in London. When the captain called upon the 
merchant, the latter was very curious to hear of the perils 
encountered and the strange sights witnessed by the cap- 
tain. Alice, in particular, wanted to know what had be- 
fallen Dick’s cat, and what was the success of his venture. 
When the captain had explained all, he added that 
Whittington ought to be told very cautiously, otherwise 
his good luck might make him lose his wits. But Mr. 
Fitzwarren would hear of no delay, and had him sent for 
at once. 

Poor Dick at that moment had .just been basted by the 
cook with a ladle of dripping, and was quite ashamed to 
appear in such a plight before company. But all his 
woes were soon forgotten when the merchant told him of 
his good fortune, and especially when he added that it 
was a just reward granted by Heaven for his patience 
under hard trials, and for his good conduct and industry. 

32 


DICK WHITTINGTON AND IIIS CAT 


When the boxes and bales containing the treasures given 
by the King and Queen to the owner of the cat, and 
marked outside with a large W, were displayed, the as- 
tonished youth burst into tears, and implored his master 
to take all if he would, but continue to be his friend. 
But the merchant would touch none of it, declaring it to 
belong to Whittington, and to him alone. 

Before the captain took his leave, he said to Dick play- 
fully, “I have another present for you from the African 
Queen,” and calling to a sailor, ordered him to bring up 
Puss, which was done to the great joy of her former 
master; and right happy was she to see him again, purr- 
ing round him, and rubbing her head against his face 
when he took her up in his arms. For the rest of her 
days she continued to live with her grateful master. 

Dick made a liberal and proper use of his wealth. Mr. 
Fitzwarren constantly refused Whittington’s earnest 
wishes that he would accept at least some of his great 
wealth, but he agreed to become his guardian and the 
manager of his property until he should be of age. Under 
his prudent counsel Whittington grew up to be a thriv- 
ing merchant, and a wise and good citizen. With all 
this success he never lost his old modesty of behavior; and 
deeply as he loved Alice, he for a long time delayed to 
make his secret known to her father ; but the kind mer- 
chant had long suspected the fact, and at last taxed 
33 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

Richard with it. He could not deny it. but found he had 
no cause to regret having opened his heart to Mr. Fitz- 
warren. On Whittington’s coming of age, he was re- 
warded with the hand of Alice, who fully shared his 
love, having long secretly regarded him with favor. 

Whittington rose in eminence every year, and was 
universally esteemed. He served in Parliament, was 
knighted also, and was thrice Lord Mayor of London; 
thus fulfilling the prophecy uttered, as he had fancied, by 
Bow bells. When he served that office for the third 
time, it was during the reign of Hairy the Fifth, just 
after that great king had conquered France. Sir Richard 
entertained him and his Queen in such great style that the 
King was pleased to say, “ Never prince had such a sub- 
ject !”to which it has been said the Lord Mayor loyally re- 
plied, “ Never subject had such a prince!” 

At this entertainment the King was much pleased with 
a fire made from choice woods and fragrant spices, upon 
which Sir Richard said he would add something that 
would make the fire burn more brightly for the pleasure 
of his sovereign, when he threw into the flames various 
bonds given by the King for money borrowed of the citi- 
zens to carry on the war with France, and which Sir 
Richard had called in and discharged, to the amount of 
sixty thousand pounds — to the admiration of all who 
witnessed this act of patriotic generosity. 

34 


LICK WHITTINGTON AND IIIS CAT. 

After a long life, this good man, who nobly distin- 
guished himself by public works and acts of charity — 
by many of which he is still kept in memory — died, 
universally regretted, having survived Alice, his wife, 
about twenty years. 


35 


THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY. 


Old stories tell how Hercules 
A dragon slew at Lerna, 

With seven heads and fourteen eyes, 

To see and well diseern-a : 

But he had a club, this dragon to drub, 

Or he ne’er had done it, I warrant ye : 

But More of More-hall, with nothing at all, 
He slew the dragon of Wantley. 

This dragon had two furious wings, 

Each one upon each shoulder; 

With a sting in his tail as long as a flail, 
Which made him bolder and bolder. 

He had long claws, and in his jaws 
Four and forty teeth of iron ; 

With a hide as tough as any buff, 

Which did him round environ. 

Have you not heard how the Trojan horse 
Held seventy men in his belly ? 

This dragon was not quite so big, 

But very near, I’ll tell ye ; 


36 



The Dragon of Wantley. 










' 






























































l 

































. 

$ 

9 




































































. 

















































TEE DRAGON OF WANTLEY. 


Devoured he poor children three, 

That could not with him grapple ; 

And at one sup he ate them up, 

As one would eat an apple. 

All sorts of cattle this dragon would eat, 

Some say he ate up trees, 

And that the forests sure he would 
Devour up by degrees : 

For houses and churches were to him geese and 
turkeys ; 

He ate all and left none behind, 

But some stones, dear Jack, that he could not crack, 
Which on the hills you will find. 

Hard by a furious knight there dwelt ; 

Men, women, girls, and boys, 

Sighing and sobbing, came to his lodging, 

And made a hideous noise. 

Oh, save us all, More of More-hall, 

Thou peerless knight of these woods ; 

Do but slay this dragon, who won’t leave us a rag on, 
We’ll give thee all our goods. 

This being "done, he did engage 
To hew the dragon down ; 

But first he went new armor to 
Bespeak at Sheffield town ; 

37 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


With spikes all about, not within but without, 
Of steel so sharp and strong, 

Both behind and before, arms, legs, and all o’er, 
Some five or six inches long. 

Had you but seen him in this dress, 

How fierce he looked, and how big, 

You would have thought him for to be 
Some Egyptian porcupig: 

He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all, 

Each cow, each horse, and each hog: 

For fear they did flee, for they took him to be 
Some strange, outlandish hedge-hog. 

To see this fight all people then 
Got up on trees and houses, 

On churches some, and chimneys too ; 

But these put on their trousers, 

Not to spoil their hose. As soon as he rose, 

To make him strong and mighty, 

He drank, by the tale, six pots of ale 
And a quart of aqua-vitae. 

It is not strength that always wins, 

For wit doth strength excel ; 

Which made our cunning champion 
Creep down into a well, 


38 


THE DRAGON OF WANT LEY. 


Where he did think this dragon would drink, 
And so he did in truth ; 

And as he stooped low, he rose up and cried, boh ! 
And kicked him in the mouth. 

Oh, quoth the dragon with a deep sigh, 

And turned six times together. 

Sobbing and tearing, cursing and swearing 
Out of his throat of leather : 

More of More-hall, O thou rascal, 

Would I had seen thee never; 

With the thing at thy foot thou hast pricked my 
throat, 

And I’m quite undone forever. 

Murder, murder, the dragon cried, 

Alack, alack, for grief;* 

Had you but missed that place, you could 
Have done me no mischief. 

Then his head he shaked, trembled and quaked, 
And down he laid and cried ; 

First on one knee, then on back tumbled he ; 

So groaned, and kicked, and died. 


39 


A VOYAGE TO FAIRYLAND. 


Dora closed the book she had been reading with a 
slightly impatient gesture, as it was now growing quite 
dark. “I don’t believe there are fairies and things 
really ,” she said aloud, although there was no one else in 
the room, as she placed her chin on her hand and gazed 
abstractedly into the nursery fire. Now Dora loved 
fairies and fairy tales, but she had just finished reading 
such a particularly choice one that, growing somewhat 
envious of the good life the fairies led, she had given 
vent to this skeptical remark to ease her feelings. The 
lights had not yet been brought in, and the flicker of the 
fire threw fantastic shifting shadows on the walls and floor. 

When Dora expressed her disbelief in “fairies and 
things,” it must not be supposed that she dismissed them 
from her mind. Oh, no ! her thoughts were very busy 
now; and, gazing intently into the dancing flames, she 
there discovered all sorts of lovely fairy corners. Gob- 
lins skipped about and danced in rare abandon, while 
dainty little fairies with bright hair and smiling faces, 
and clothed in flower petals, strolled about in a manner 
most sedate and queenly for people so very small. Her 
attention was strangely attracted by a number of goblins 


40 



A Voyage to Fairyland. 





A VOYAGE TO FAIRYLAND. 


dancing wildly, with hands clasped, round a timid little 
fairy, who seemed greatly amused and somewhat embar- 
rassed. Quickly and more quickly they went round, 
until the rate was really dazzling, and Dora trembled lest 
one of them should tumble or let go. “ There ! I thought 
so,” she cried excitedly, with a start; “I knew you would 
do that;” for one of them had broken loose and been 
hurled right out of the circle on to Dora’s shoulder, where 
he lay gasping like a fish out of water. 

“ Here’s a go,” said the goblin at last, in a funny squeaky 
little voice, as he crouched there and hung on to her pretty 
auburn hair. Dora gazed at him with open-mouthed 
astonishment, as with eager eyes fixed on hers, he com- 
menced gingerly to climb down her arm on to the rug. 

“I hope I haven’t hurt you,” he continued, “but it 
wasn’t my fault exactly ; you see ” 

“ Don’t trouble to explain,” said Dora, who was grow- 
ing accustomed to the situation. “ I saw it all. You’re 
a fairy, aren’t you ?” she added abruptly. 

“You put it rather bluntly, but I suppose I am,” 
returned the goblin, who had now reached the rug, and 
was leaning against Dora’s knee; “but there ! I must be 
going.” 

“ Where ?” asked Dora. 

“Back,” replied the goblin, jerking his head over his 
shoulder as an accompaniment to his rather vague answer. 

41 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

“ Please be a little more definite ; where s 1 back V ” 

“ Oh, Fairyland, you know.” 

“Then take me with you, please ; I’lFbe so good,” cried 
Dora, so suddenly that it made the goblin jump. 

“Well, you’re rather a lot to look after, but come 
along,” he replied ; and taking her by the hand they 
vanished through the wall in a twinkling. 

Dora was not surprised or startled, somehow, even 
when she observed that she now appeared no bigger than 
her companion, for she had something else to wonder at. 
They were standing amid a mass of lovely many- 
colored flowers, with everything around bright and daz- 
zling. The sun was shining in a deep blue sky, while 
along the flowery slopes, across a belt of yellow sand, lay 
the sea, shimmering in the sunlight. 

“ Oh, how lovely !” cried Dora, clasping her hands. “Is 
this Fairyland?” 

“ Oh, dear no ; Fairyland is over there,” replied her 
companion, pointing across the shining water. “This is 
only one of the branches, so to speak.” 

They glided across the smooth sand down to the water’s 
edge. 

“ How are we going to get there ?” Dora remarked. 

“Well, I think I’d better call a ship,” he said; and 
holding up his hand and giving a low whistle, a queer- 
looking ship approached them. 

42 


A VOYAGE TO FAIRYLAND. 


When Dora got on board she found several other chil- 
dren there who were about to make the same voyage. 
Slowly they sailed across the harbor into the open sea. 
Dora was lost in enchantment. The water was divided 
into bands of purple and blue, and gray and green ; and 
the deep blue of the sky was made to appear more • 
intense by little fleecy white clouds blown by gentle 
zephyrs across the sky, while right in the midst of a 
purple stretch of water nestled a group of golden-rimmed 
islands like jewels in their settings. 

“What glorious color!” exclaimed Dora under her 
breath to her companion. 

“Yes, it isn’t bad; but you see I get it every day,” he 
added, noticing the reproach in her eyes ; and with this 
he left her and went below. 

Birds of gay plumage darted in front of them, and 
seemed to disappear into the little white blotches of surf 
that the sea was flecked with. Amid the sighing of 
the winds and she splashing of the water, as the ship 
plowed on, Dora thought she distinguished the sound of 
faint music, and looking intently in front, she perceived 
that what at first she had taken to be a gathering of mist 
had resolved itself into two fairy figures playing on fairy 
instruments and singing softly. As they proceeded, the 
music grew more distinct and more lovely, and Dora was 
quite carried out of herself. She was brought back, 
43 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT 

however, by the little man, who had returned, and was 
digging her in the side. 

“ You see, we don’t steer our ships as you do in your 
world ; we are drawn to our destination by the music of 
Fairyland.” 

“ How sweet,” murmured Dora ; and looking over the 
side she saw lovely mermaids with golden hair besporting 
themselves in the blue ; she was sure also she could see 
little fairies riding on the tops of the waves. The coast 
of Fairyland appeared very distinct now, and the music 
which filled the air was loud and sweet. On a little 
promontory stood a crowd of dainty people in dresses of 
flowers waiting to receive the voyagers. Sweetly they 
smiled on Dora as she stepped ashore, and Dora could 
hardly keep the tears back for very joy. Soon the crowd 
of fairies divided, and coming toward her appeared the 
Queen more radiant than them all ; and as she took Dora 
by the hand, the music, which had been growing contin- 
ually louder and more sweet, burst into a flood of melody. 
But then, as the face of the Queen drew near to Dora’s 
to kiss her, the joy became so intense that she must have 
swooned, for everything seemed to fade right away, and 

then “Come, you must go to bed, dear,” said a 

voice in her ear. Dora had awakened in nurse’s arms. 

Alfred Jones. 


44 















The Ugly Duckling 



THE UGLY DUCKLING. 


It was so glorious out in the country ; it was summer • 
the cornfields were yellow, the oats were green, the hay 
had been put up in stacks in the green meadows, and the 
stork went about on his long red legs, and chattered 
Egyptian, for this was the language he had learned from 
his good mother. All around the fields and meadows 
were great forests, and in the midst of these forests lay 
deep lakes. Yes, it was right glorious out in the coun- 
try. In the midst of the sunshine there lay an old farm, 
with deep canals about it, and from the wall down to 
the water grew great burdocks, so high that little chil- 
dren could stand upright under the loftiest of them. It 
was just as wild there as in the deepest wood, and here 
sat a Duck upon her nest; she had to hatch her duck- 
lings ; but she was almost tired out before the little ones 
came, and then she so seldom had visitors. The other 
ducks liked better to swim about in the canals than to 
run up to sit down under a burdock, and cackle with her. 

At last one eggshell after another burst open. “ Piep ! 
piep !” it cried, and in all the eggs there were little 
creatures that stuck out their heads. 

u Quack ! quack !” they said ; and they all came quack- 
45 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


ing out as fast as they could, looking all round them 
under the green leaves ; and the mother let them look as 
much as they chose, for green is good for the eye. 

“How wide the world is !” said all the young ones, for 
they certainly had much more room now than when they 
were in the eggs. 

“D’ye think this is all the world?” said the mother. 
“ That stretches far across the other side of the garden, 
quite into the parson’s field ; but I have never been there 
yet. I hope you are all together,” and she stood up. 
“No, I have not all. The largest egg still lies there. 
How long is that to last ? I am really tired of it.” And 
she sat down again. 

“Well, how goes it?” asked an old Duck who had come 
to pay her a visit. 

“It lasts a long time with that one egg,” said the Duck 
who sat there. “It will not burst. Now, only look at 
the others; are they not the prettiest little ducks one 
could possibly see ? They are all like their father : the 
rogue, he never comes to see me.” 

“ Let me see the egg which will not burst,” said the old 
visitor. “ You may be sure it is a turkey’s egg. I was 
once cheated in that way, and had much anxiety and 
trouble with the young ones, for they are afraid of the 
water. Must I say it to you, I could not get them to 
venture in. I quacked and I clacked, but it was no use. 


46 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. 


Let me see the egg. Yes, that’s a turkey’s egg. Let it 
lie there, and teach the other children to swim.” 

“ I think I will sit on it a little longer,” said the Duck. 
“ I’ve sat so long now that I can sit a few days more.” 

“ Just as you please,” said the old Duck; and she went 
away. 

At last the great egg burst. “Piep! piep!”said the 
little one, and crept forth. It was very large and very 
ugly. The Duck looked at it. 

“It’s a very large duckling,” said she; “none of the 
others look like that : can it really be a turkey chick ? 
Well, we shall soon find out. It must go into the water, 
even if I have to thrust it in myself ?” 

The next day it was bright, beautiful weather; the 
sun shone on all the green trees. The Mother-Duck went 
down to the canal with all her family. Splash ! she 
jumped into the water. “Quack! quack!” she said, and 
one duckling after another plunged in. The w r ater closed 
over their heads, but they came up in an instant and 
swam capitally ; their legs went of themselves, and they 
were all in the water. The ugly gray Duckling swam 
with them. 

“No, it’s not a turkey,” said she; “look how well it 
can use its legs, and how straight it holds itself. It is 
my own child ! On the whole it’s quite pretty, if one 
looks at it rightly. Quack! quack! come with me and 

47 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


I’ll lead you out into the great world, and present you in 
the duckyard ; but keep close to me, so that no one may 
tread on you, and take care of the cats !” 

And so they came into the duckyard. There was a 
terrible riot going on in there, for two families were 
quarreling about an eel’s head, and the cat got it after all. 

“ See, that’s how it goes in the world !” said the 
Mother-Duck; and she whetted her beak, for she too 
wanted the eel’s head. “ Only use your legs.” she said. 
“ See that you can bustle about, and bow your heads be- 
fore the old Duck yonder. She’s the grandest of all 
here ; she’s of Spanish blood — that’s why she’s so fat ; 
and d’ye see? she has a red rag round her leg; that's 
something particularly fine, and the greatest distinction a 
duck can enjoy ; it signifies that one does not want to 
lose her, and that she’s to be knowm by the animals and 
by men too. Shake yourselves — don’t turn in your toes ; 
a w T ell brought-up duck turns its toes quite out, just like 
father and mother — so ! Now bend your necks and say 
Quack!” 

And they did so; but the other ducks round about 
looked at them and said quite boldly : 

“Look there ! now we’re to have these hanging on, as 
if there w T ere not enough of us already ! And — fie ! — 
how that duckling yonder looks ; w r e won’t stand that !” 
And one duck flew up at it, and bit it in the neck. 

48 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. 

“ Let it alone,” said the mother : " it does no harm to 
any one.” 

" Yes, but it’s too large and peculiar,” said the Duck 
who had bitten it; "and therefore it must be put down.’* 

" Those are pretty children that the mother has there,” 
said the old Duck with the rag round her leg. " They’re 
all pretty but that one; that was rather unlucky. I wish 
she could bear it over again.” 

“ That cannot be done, my lady,” replied the Mother- 
Duck. "It is not pretty, but it has a really good dispo- 
sition, and swims as well as any other ; yes, I may even 
say it, swims better. I think it will grow up pretty, and 
become smaller in time ; it has lain too long in the egg, 
and therefore is not properly shaped.” And then she 
pinched it in the neck and smoothed its feathers. "More- 
over, it is a drake,” she said, and therefore it is not of so 
much consequence. I think he will be very strong : he 
makes his way already.” 

“ The other ducklings are graceful enough,” said the 
old Duck. "Make yourself at home, and if you find an 
eel’s head you may bring it me.” 

And now they were at home. But the poor Duckling 
which had crept last out of the egg, and looked so ugly, 
was bitten and pushed and jeered, as much by the ducks 
as by the chickens. 

“It is too big!” they all said. And the turkeycock, 
49 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

who had been "born with spurs, and therefore thought 
Mmself an emperor, blew himself up like a ship in full 
rsai], and bore straight down upon it; then he gobbled 
^nd grew quite red in the face. The poor Duckling did 
siot know where it should stand or walk ; it was quite 
melancholy because it looked ugly, and was the butt of 
the whole ducky ard. 

So it went on the first day ; and afterward it became 
worse and worse. The poor Duckling was hunted about 
Iby every one; even its brothers and sisters were quite 
.angry with it, and said : “ If the cat would only catch 
you, you ugly creature!” And the mother said: “If 
you were only far away!” And the ducks bit it, and 
the chickens beat it, and the girl w r ho had to feed the 
poultry kicked at it with her foot. 

Then it ran and flewoverthe fence, and the little birds 
In the bushes flew up in fear. 

“That is because I am so ugly!” thought the Duck 
ling; and it shut its eyes, but flew on farther, and so it 
came out into the great moor, where the wild ducks lived. 
Here it lay the whole night long; and it w^as weary and 
<lowncast. 

Toward morning the wild ducks flew up and looked at 
their new companion. 

“ What sort of a one are you ?” they asked ; and the 
Duckling turned in every direction and bowed as well as 
50 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. 

it could. “You are remarkably ugly !” said the Wild 
Ducks. “ But that is nothing to us, so long as you do 
not marry into our family.” 

Poor thing ! it certainly did not think of marrying, 
and only hoped to obtain leave to lie among the reeds 
and drink some of the swamp water. 

Thus it lay two whole days ; then came thither two 
wild geese, or, properly speaking, two wild ganders. It 
was not long since each had crept out of an egg, and 
that’s why they were so saucy. 

“ Listen, comrade,” said one of them. “ You’re so ugly 
that I like you. Will you go with us, and become a 
bird of passage ? Near here, in another moor, there are a 
few sweet, lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and all able 
to say ‘Bap?’ You’ve a chance of making your fortune, 
ugly as you are.” 

“Piff! paff !” resounded through the air, and the two 
ganders fell down dead in the swamp, and the water be- 
came blood-red. “ Piif ! paff !” it sounded again, and the 
whole flock of wild geese rose up from the reeds. And 
then there was another report. A great hunt was going 
on. The sportsmen were lying in wait all round the 
moor, and some were even sitting up in the branches of 
the trees, which spread far over the reeds. The blue 
smoke rose up like clouds among the dark trees, and was 
wafted far away across the water ; and the hunting dogs 

51 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

came — splash, splash ! — into the swamp, and the rushes 
and the reeds bent down on every side. That was a 
fright for the poor Duckling. It turned its head and 
put it under its wing ; but at that moment a frightful 
great dog stood close by the Duckling. His tongue hung 
far out of his mouth, and his eyes gleamed horrible and 
ugly ; he thrust out his nose close against the Duckling, 
showed his sharp teeth, and — splash, splash ! — on he went 
without seizing it. 

“Oh, Heaven be thanked !” sighed the Duckling. “I 
am so ugly that even the dog does not like to bite me !” 

And so it lay quite quiet, while the shots rattled 
through the reeds, and gun after gun was fired. At last, 
late in the day, all was still ; but the poor Duckling did 
not dare to rise up ; it waited several hours before it 
looked round, and then hastened away out of the moor as 
fast as it could. It ran on over field and meadow ; there 
was such a storm raging that it was difficult to get from 
one place to another. 

Toward evening the Duck came to a little miserable 
peasant’s hut. This hut was so dilapidated that it did 
not itself know on which side it should fall ; and that’s 
why it remained standing. The storm whistled round 
the Duckling in such a way that the poor creature was 
obliged to sit down to stand against it; and the wind 
blew worse and worse. Then the Duckling noticed that 


52 


THE UGLY DUCKLING . 


one of the hinges of the door had given way, and the 
door hung so slanting that the Duckling could slip through 
the crack into the room; and that is what it did. 

Here lived a woman, with her Cat and her Hen. And 
the Cat, whom she call Sonnie, could arch his back and 
purr; he couM even give out sparks; but for that one 
had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The Hen had quite 
little, short legs, and therefore she was called Chickabiddy 
Shortshanks ; she laid good eggs, and the woman loved 
her as her own child. 

In the morning the strange Duckling was at once 
noticed, and the Cat began to purr and the Hen to cluck. 

“ What’s this?” said the woman, and looked all round; 
but she could not see well, and therefore she thought the 
Duckling was a fat duck that had strayed. “This is a 
rare prize !” she said. “ Now I shall have duck’s eggs. 
I hope it is not a drake. We must try that.” 

And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three 
weeks ; but no eggs came. And the Cat was master of 
the house, and the Hen was the lady, and always said 
“We and the World !” for she thought they were half 
the world, and by far the better half. 

The Duckling thought one might have a different 
opinion, but the Hen w r ould not allow it. 

“ Can you lay eggs?” she asked. 

“ No ” 


53 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


“Then will you hold your tongue !” 

And the Cat said “Can you curve your back, and purr, 
and give out sparks ?” 

“ No.” 

“Then you will please have no opinion of your own 
when sensible folks are speaking.” 

And the Duckling sat in a corner and was melancholy ; 
then the fresh air and the sunshine streamed in ; and it 
was seized with such a strange longing to swim on the 
water that it could not help telling the Hen of it. 

“ What are you thinking of ?” cried the Hen. “ You 
have nothing to do; that’s why you have these fancies. 
Lay eggs, or purr, and they will pass over.” 

“But it is so charming to swim on the water !” said the 
Duckling, “so refreshing to let it close above one’s head, 
and to dive down to the bottom.” 

“Yes, that must be a mighty pleasure, truly,” quoth 
the Hen ; “I fancy you must have gone crazy. Ask the 
Cat about it ; he’s the cleverest animal I know ; ask him 
if he likes to swim on the water, or to dive down ; I won’t 
speak about myself. Ask our mistress, the old woman; 
no one in the world is cleverer than she. Do you think 
she has any desire to swim, and to let the water close 
above her head ?” 

“You don’t understand me,” said the Duckling. 

“We don’t understand you? Then pray who is to 


54 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. 


understand you ? You surely don’t pretend to be cleverer 
than the Cat and the woman — I won’t say anything of 
myself. Don’t be conceited, child, and thank your Maker 
for all the kindness you have received. Did you not get 
into a warm room, and have you not fallen into company 
from which you may learn something ? But you are a 
chatterer, and it is not pleasant to associate with you. 
You may believe me, I speak for your good. I tell you 
disagreeable things, and by that one may always knovr 
one’s true friends ! Only take care that you learn to lay 
eggs, or to purr, and give out sparks !” 

“ I think I will go out into the wide world,” said the 
Duckling. 

“ Yes, do go,” replied the hen. 

And so the Duckling went away. It swam on the 
water, and dived, but it was slighted by every creature 
because of its ugliness. 

Now came the autumn. The leaves in the forest 
turned yellow and brown ; the wind caught them so that 
they danced about, and up in the air it was very cold. 
The clouds hung low, heavy wuth hail and snowflakes^ 
and on the fence stood the raven, crying, “ Croak ! croak P 
for mere cold ; yes, it was enough to make one feel cold 
to think of this. The poor little Duckling certainly had 
not a good time. One evening — the sun was just setting 
in his beauty — there came a whole flock of great, hand- 
55 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

some birds out of the bushes ; they were dazzlingly 
white, with long, flexible necks ; they were swans. They 
uttered a very peculiar cry, spread forth their glorious 
great wings, and flew away from that cold region to 
warmer lands, to fair open lakes. They mounted so 
high, so high ! and the ugly Duckling felt quite strangely 
as it watched them. It turned round and round in the 
water like a wheel, stretched out its neck toward them, 
and uttered such a strange loud cry as frightened itself. 
Oh! it could not forget those beautiful, happy birds; 
and so soon as it could see them no longer it dived down 
to the very bottom, and when it came up again it was 
quite beside itself. It knew not the name of those birds, 
and knew not whither they were flying ; but it loved 
them more than it had ever loved any one. It was not 
at all envious of them. How could it think of wishing 
to possess such loveliness as they had ? It would have 
been glad if only the ducks would have endured its com- 
pany — the poor, ugly creature ! 

And the winter grew cold, very cold \ The Duckling 
was forced to swim about in the water, to prevent the 
surface from freezing entirely; but every night the hole 
in which it swam about became smaller and smaller. It 
froze so hard that the icy covering crackled again ; and 
the Duckling was obliged to use its legs continually to 
prevent the hole from freezing up. At last it became 
56 


THE UGLY DUCKLING . 


exhausted, and lay ouite still, and thus froze fast into 
the ice. 

Early in the morning a peasant came by, and when he 
saw what had happened he took his wooden shoe, broke 
the ice crust to pieces, and carried the Duckling home to 
his wife. Then it came to itself again. The children 
wanted to play with it; but the Duckling thought they 
wanted to hurt it, and in its terror fluttered up into the 
milk-pan, so that the milk spurted down into the room. 
The woman clasped her hands, at which the Duckling 
flew down into the butter-tub, and then into the meal- 
barrel and out again. How it looked then ! The woman 
screamed, and struck at it with the fire-tongs; the chil- 
dren tumbled over one another in their efforts to catch 
the Duckling; and they laughed and they screamed — 
well it was that the door stood open, and the poor crea- 
ture was able to slip out between the shrubs into the 
newly-fallen snow — there it lay quite exhausted. 

But it would be too melancholy if I were to tell all the 
misery and care which the Duckling had to endure in the 
hard winter. It lay out on the moor among the reeds, 
when the sun began to shine again and the larks to sing: 
it was a beautiful spring. 

Then all at once the Duckling could flap its wings: 
they beat the air more strongly than before, and bore it 
strongly away ; and before it w r ell knew how all this 

67 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

happened it found itself in a great garden, where the 
elder trees smelled sweet, and bent their long green 
branches down to the canal that wound through the 
region. Oh, here it was so beautiful, such a gladness of 
spring! and from the thicket came three glorious white 
swans; they rustled their wings and swam lightly on the 
water. The Duckling knew the splendid creatures, and 
felt oppressed by a peculiar sadness. 

“ I will fly away to them, to the royal birds ! and they 
will beat me, because I, that am so ugly, dare to come 
near them. But it is all the same. Better to be killed 
by them than to be pursued by ducks, and beaten by 
fowls, and pushed about by the girl who takes care of 
the poultry yard, and to suffer hunger in winter !” And 
it flew out into the water, and swam toward the beautiful 
swans : these looked at it, and came sailing down upon 
it with outspread wings. “Kill me !” said the poor crea- 
ture, and bent its head down upon the water, expecting 
nothing but death. But what was this that it saw in the 
clearwater? It beheld its own image; and, lo! it was 
no longer a clumsy dark-gray bird, ugly and hateful to 
look at, but a — swan ! 

It matters nothing if one is born in a duckyard if one 
has only lain in a swan’s egg. 

It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it had 
suffered, now it realized its happiness in all the splendor 

58 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. 


that surrounded it. And the great swans swam round 
it, and stroked it with their beaks. 

Into the garden came little children, who threw bread 
and corn into the water ; and the youngest cried, “ There 
is a new one!” and the other children shouted joyously, 
“ Yes, a new one has arrived !” And they clapped their 
hands and danced about, and ran to their father and 
mother; and bread and cake were thrown into the water; 
and they all said : “The new one is the most beautiful of 
all ! so young and handsome !” and the old swans bowed 
their heads before him. Then he felt quite ashamed, and 
hid his head under his wings, for he did not know what 
to do ; he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He 
thought how he had been persecuted and despised; and 
now he heard them saying that he was the most beauti- 
ful of all birds. Even the elder tree bent its branches 
straight down into the water before him, and the sun 
shone warm and mild. Then his wings rustled, he lifted 
his slender neck, and cried rejoicingly from the depths of 
his heart : 

“ I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was 
the Ugly Duckling!” 

Hans Christian Andersen. 


59 


ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN. 


Robin Hood, as we know, dwelt in the Yorkshire 
Forest of Barnsdale, though in Sherwood Forest he seems 
to have been at home. One day, this most proud and 
courteous of outlaws declared that he could not dine till 
he got some guest who should pay for their cheer. So 
his faithful followers, Little John, so called in sport be- 
cause he was seven feet high ; Will Scathelock, whom 
men named also Scarlett, and Much, the miller’s sturdy 
son, he sent out toward Watling Street, that they might 
perchance make prize of some rich traveler. Then, before 
long, they fell in with a knight riding through one of the 
forest glades, yet in little knightly pride, for he sat dowm- 
cast on his sorry steed, thinly clad, all woe-begone and 
poverty-stricken of aspect, and wept as he went along. 

“ A sorrier man than he was one 
Rode never in summer's day !” 

All the same, Little John knelt courteously to give him 
his master’s pressing invitation, which the knight was 
nothing loath to accept, saying he had heard much good 
of Robin Hood. So they all went together to Robin’s 
lodge among the woods, where the hungry outlaw also 
60 



Robin Hood. 










• ' 
































• • 




































■ 






> 
















































































































■ 























































































































































* B • ■ 































































































ROBIN HOOD AND BIS MERRY MEN. 

welcomed his guest with a great show of friendliness, 
and when they had “ washed and wiped together,” they 
sat down to dinner. 

A good meal it was, bread and wine in plenty, with 
venison, swans, pheasants, and every kind of game ; and 
the starveling knight confessed that he had not had such 
a dinner for three weeks. 

“ If I come again, Eobin, 

Here by this country. 

As good a dinner I shall thee make 
As thou hast made to me." 

Robin thanked him, but said that he must now pay 
before he went, since it was not seemly that a yeoman 
should be at the cost of entertaining a knight. 

Alas ! replied the knight, he had no more in the world 
than ten shillings, which he was ashamed to offer. In 
that case, declared Robin, he would not take a penny, 
but would rather lend his guest money, if in need. To 
make sure, however, he bid Little John examine the 
knight’s mantle, which in those days was a rider’s bag- 
gage, and, this being spread on the ground, his “coffer” 
was found to contain no more than half a pound, as he 
had said. 

Robin Hood asked how one of his degree came to be 
so poor, and heard in reply a moving tale of family mis- 
fortune. The knight’s son had had the misfortune to kill 
61 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

a knight of Lancashire, and to get him out of this trouble, 
the father had been forced to pledge his lands to the rich 
Abbot of St. Mary. Now the day was at hand on 
which he must pay up four hundred pounds, or see his 
inheritance pass into possession of the greedy monks. 
His friends had all abandoned him in his poverty ; they 
pretended not to know a man at the point of ruin ; no- 
body would lend him money or go bail for him. So he 
saw nothing for it but to go over the salt sea to Palestine. 

“ And see where Christ was quick and dead, 

On the Mount of Calvary. 

Farewell, friend, and have good day — 

It may no better be \” 

But it was not Kobin Hood’s way to turn his back on 
one in distress. Even his men wept for pity of the poor 
knight; and now, ordering the best wine to be brought 
out for a guest who could pay only with thanks, their 
master sent Little John to his treasury for four hundred 
pounds, which he counted out as a loan, to be repaid that 
day twelvemonth, under the same greenwood tree, on no 
other security than the love of Our Lady. Moreover, 
Kobin and his friendly men gave the knight scarlet and 
green cloth to make a good suit of clothes, and a good 
horse and a new saddle, and a pair of boots and gilt 
spurs; and Little John was lent him to go along as 
squire, since it seemed unbecoming for a knight to ride 
62 


ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN 

without a single attendant. This knight, then, Sir Kich- 
ard of the Lee by name, turned from his sad way to the 
Crusades, and went joyfully back, blessing the outlaws, 
as well he might, for “the best company that ever he 
came in.” Without fail, Our Lady helping him, he 
promised to keep his tryst that day twelvemonth under 
the greenwood tree. 

Next day, there was joy and revel at St. Mary’s Abbey, 
where the proud priests thought that their debtor could 
not discharge the bond, and that they would forthwith 
enter into his goodly heritage, worth by the year as much 
as had been lent upon it. The prior, indeed, had pity 
on the poor man, whom he believed to be already suffer- 
ing hunger and cold far beyond the sea; but the abbot, 
and that “fat-headed monk” the cellarer, were bent on 
exacting their bond ; and here they had no less an officer 
than the high justice at hand, with other men of law, to 
adjudge the forfeiture if Sir Kichard failed to pay, as 
like was. 

But as this good company sat at meat, to the gate came 
their debtor, he and his followers all in poor apparel, for 
he meant to fool the covetous monks before paying them 
their due. He came lowly into the hall and knelt down, 
pretending he had not a penny, and praying for delay. 
With haughty looks and scornful words, the abbot 
spurned his entreaties, not even having the courtesy to 
63 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


bid him rise. But his countenance changed, when Sir 
Richard leaped up, and out of a bag shook four hundred 
pounds of bright gold — 

“ Sir Abbot, and ye men of law. 

Now have I held my day ; 

Now shall I have my land again. 

For ought that you can say !” 

Leaving them to stomach their discomfiture as best 
they could, he strode out of these inhospitable doors, and 
now first arrayed himself in the good clothes he had got 
from Robin Hood. Thus, in gallant guise, he rode home 
to tell his wife and children what had befallen, and bid 
them pray for the kind outlaw. 

A year he lived at home, till he had gathered together 
four hundred pounds. This money in his cloak-bags, and 
carrying also a present of a hundred bows and a hundred 
sheaves of peacock-feathered arrows, inlaid with silver, in 
token of his gratitude for the loan, he set out to pay 
Robin on the appointed day, attended now by a goodly 
retinue of a hundred men, well armed and harnessed, so 
much had his state bettered through the year’s delay. 
But as he rode along singing for lightness of heart, he 
came to a place where a wrestling was going on, and 
turned aside to see the sport. And from sport the wrest- 
lers, it would seem, came to earnest, for the rest set upon 
a good yeoman, stranger as he was, who had deserved 
64 


ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN 


the prize, and came near to have killed him in this quar- 
rel. Then our knight, “for love of Robin Hood,” would 
not suffer that any yeoman should be wronged, so he and 
his men spurred into the fray, and laid about them, till 
the yeoman was allowed to take his prize — a white bull, 
a tall steed richly equipped, a pair of gloves, a gold ring, 
and a pipe of wine. For the wine Sir Richard paid him 
down five marks, and set it abroach on the spot, to restore 
good humor among all who were there. This business 
delayed him some three hours ; and thus went by the 
hour of noon, when he should have been at his tryst with 
Robin Hood. 

Meanwhile Robin Hood awaited him impatiently, for 
he would not dine till the knight came to keep his word. 
Little John had returned to the greenwood, after playing 
some fine tricks of his own upon the sheriff of Notting- 
ham. He, with Scarlett and Much, went out to see if 
any one were coming through the forest; and soon they 
were aware of a fat monk riding along the road, with 
some fifty attendants and more to grace his lordly state. 
When the outlaws stopped him, and gave their master’s 
invitation to dinner, the monk called out on Robin Hood 
for a strong thief of whom he had heard no good. But 
all his men took to flight as soon as they heard the 
arrows whistling about their ears; and, willy-nilly, he 
was brought to the lodge in the greenwood, 

65 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


Now Robin could sit down to his dinner, and the monk 
had sullenly to let himself be entertained by this jesting 
crew. After dinner they asked who he was, and their 
unwilling guest confessed himself the high cellarer of St. 
Mary’s Abbey ; whereupon the chief called to mind how, 
half in jest and half in earnest, Our Lady had been 
appointed the borrow , or security, between him and that 
faithless knight: 

“ ‘ But I have great marvel/ said Robin, 

‘ Of all this long day; 

I dread Our Lady be wroth with me, 

She sent me not my pay/ 

“ ‘ Have no doubt, master/ said Little John 
‘ Ye have no need, I say. 

This monk it hath brought, I dare well swear, 

For he is of her abbey/ 

“ c And she was a borrow / said Robin, 

‘ Between a knight and me. 

Of a little money that I him lent 
Under the greenwood tree. . . . 

<e t Thou toldest with thine own tongue. 

Thou mayest not say nay, 

How thou art her servant. 

And servest her every day. 

“ ‘ And thou art made her messenger 
My money for to pay/ ” 

6G 


ROB IN HOOD AND II IS MERRY MEN 

In short, the monk must tell how much money he had 
with him. Only twenty marks, he vowed; and if so, 
said Robin, he would rather lend to him than take a 
penny. But when they came to search, more than eight 
hundred pounds were counted out of this fat churchman’s 
coffers, which Robin Hood took for himself, saying that 
Our Lady was the truest woman he ever knew, who paid 
twice the sum for which she had gone bail. The angry 
monk cried out in vain. He was allowed to go on his 
way, declaring very truly that he might have dined 
cheaper in the next town. 

“ ‘ Greet well your abbot/ said Eobin, 

‘ And your prior, I you pray. 

And bid him send me such a monk 
To dinner every day/” 

Scarcely was the monk gone when up came the knight, 
giving for his delay a good excuse, as Robin judged, and 
said that whoever helped a worthy yeoman should always 
be his friend. Then Sir Richard would have paid down 
the four hundred pounds; but Robin told him that Our 
Lady herself had already paid the debt by her cellarer, 
so how could he take the money twice over? And to 
show how nobly he dealt with honest debtors, he made 
the knight a present of half the monk’s money in return 
for that gift of bows and arrows we know of. 

67 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT 


“ ‘ Have here four hundred pounds. 

Thou gentle knight and true. 

And buy horse and harness good. 

And gild thy spurs all new. 

“ ‘ And if thou fail any spending. 

Come to Kobin Hood, 

And by my troth thou shalt none fail 
The while I have any good/" 

So once more Sir Richard and Robin parted good 
friends; and all were merry but the poor monk, riding 
home to his abbey to tell what had become of its rents. 

After this Robin Hood and his men lived quietly in 
the greenwood for a time, till they heard news of a great 
archery contest at Nottingham. And though it was the 
proud sheriff of that place, Robin Hood’s sworn enemy, 
who was thus inviting all archers of the north to try 
their skill, our outlaws were not the men to stay away 
from such a meeting. So to Nottingham they went, 
sevenscore strong; and we may be sure that their leader 
proved himself the best man at the butts. But when he 
had taken his prize there rose a cry that this was Robin 
Hood, and the sheriff’s men tried to seize him. Then his 
men bent their good bows, no longer in sport, and fight- 
ing they made their way out of the town. But Little 
John was sore hurt by an arrow in the knee, so that he 
prayed his master to kill him outright, that he might 

68 


ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN 


neither hinder their escape nor fall alive into the hands 
of the sheriff. This Robin swore he would not do for all 
the gold in England, and, turning about from time to 
time to hold the pursuers at bay, they bore the wounded 
man to Sir Richard’s castle, which, luckily, lay on their 
road. Right glad was the grateful knight to see his bene- 
factor, and willingly he gave him refuge, shutting the 
castle gates, letting down the drawbridge and defying all 
the threats of the sheriff, who in vain summoned him to 
give up the king’s enemy. 

The baffled sheriff then rode straight to “ London town, 
all for to tell our king.” This was not the first complaint 
against Robin Hood that had come to the king’s ears. 
He sent the sheriff back, promising himself to be at Not- 
tingham within a fortnight to deal with that bold rebel 
and his friend the knight — a thing much easier said than 
done. 

Meanwhile, after feasting with Sir Richard twelve 
days, and letting Little John be healed of his wound, 
Robin had gone back to the greenwood. Then that 
proud sheriff, not able to take the outlaw in his forest 
retreat, laid wait night and day for Sir Richard, till at 
last he caught him out hawking, and carried him off to 
prison at Nottingham, bound hand and foot. Straight- 
way his wife got to horse, and rode to Robin Hood with 
her complaint : 


69 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


“ ‘ Let thou never my wedded lord 
Shamefully slain to be; 

He is fast bound to Nottingham ward, 

All for the love of thee!” 

Nor was Robin one to desert his friend in such a strait. 
With all his men he hastened to Nottingham, met the 
sheriff and his prisoner in the street, cut Sir Richard’s 
bonds, drove away the guard ; and as to the sheriff, fetched 
him down from his horse with an arrow, then smote off 
his head, and left him lying there — no more to trouble 
honest archers. 

Now was there more need than ever for both Robin 
Hood and Sir Richard to hide themselves in the woods. 
The king traveled to Nottingham with a great array, but 
could not come at the outlaws, though every day he 
heard how they were masterfully killing his deer. All 
he could do was to proclaim the knight a traitor and 
seize his lands, which yet he durst hardly bestow upon 
any other, since the new~ lord would never have peace so 
long as Robin Hood lived. 

Full of wrath as the king was, not less grew his curi- 
osity to see this bold outlaw, who thus set him and his 
officers at defiance. To this end he took advice to dis- 
guise himself as a monk, a kind of bait sure to tempt 
Robin. Dressed like a portly abbot, with five of his 
knights also robed in monkly weeds, be rode into the 
70 


ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN. 

forest; and sure enough he had not gone a mile there 
before up started Robin and his men. Robin took the 
king’s horse by the bridle, saying : 

“ c Sir Abbot, by your leave. 

Awhile ye mast abide. 

“ ‘ We be yeomen of this forest 
Under the greenwood tree; 

We live by our king’s deer, 

Other shift have not we. 

“ ‘ And ye have churches and rents both. 

And gold full great plenty: 

Give us some of your spending 
For Saint Charity.’” 

In answer to this sturdy begging, the king said he had 
no more than forty pounds, which Robin forthwith di- 
vided, gave half of it to his men, and courteously returned 
the other half. Then the pretended abbot delivered him 
a message, as from the king, bidding him come to Not- 
tingham, and showing him the royal broad seal as token, 
at the sight of which Robin fell reverently on his knees, 
declaring how he loved no man in the world like his 
king. So much had men belied him in calling him a 
rebel, when it was only sheriffs, keepers, bailiffs, and 
other ministers of justice that he could nowise abide ! 

In honor of the message he brought Robin Hood now 
bid the “ abbot” stay to dinner, and served him with the 
71 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT 


best of their woodland cheer. The guest was amazed to 
see how many merry men came flocking up at the sound 
* of their chiefs horn, and how dutifully they did obeisance 
to this outlaw. 

“ His men are more at his bidding 
Than my men be at mine!” 

So thought the king under his cowl. Then, after dinner, 
though the outlaws had drunk to the king’s health, he 
was startled to see them handling their bows, half be- 
lieving some treason was meant. But it was only to give 
proof of their skill in archery. Two wands were set up, 
fifty paces, too far apart judged the king, not knowing 
what sturdy arms these men had ; and on each wand a 
rose garland, at which they were to shoot. Whoever 
missed the garland must lose his arrow and let himself 
be punished by a buffet on his bare head, for such was 
their custom ; and even their chief himself had to submit 
to this forfeit of ill fortune. 

Twice Robin cleft the wand, but at his third shot, as 
will happen to the best of archers, he missed the garland 
by three fingers’ breadth and more, whereupon his fol- 
lowers laughingly demanded that he should stand forth 
and “take his pay.” Since so it had to be, he delivered 
himself to the abbot, desiring him to administer the buffet. 
He objected that this was not the part of a churchman ; but 
72 


ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN. 


when Robin urged him, giving him full leave to “ smite 
on boldly,” the king folded up his sleeve, and, without 
more ado, dealt the outlaw such a blow as had almost 
brought him to the ground. 

It was Robin’s turn to be astonished. Then, looking j 
hard at that stalwart monk who had such kingly pith in ^ 
his arm, all at once he was aware of the truth, and fell 
on his knees, and Sir Richard too — 

“ And so did all the wild outlaws, 

When they saw them kneel. 

‘ $ty lord, the King of England, 

Now I know you well !' ” 

Thus he submitted himself, craving the king’s mercy for 
him and his men. The king graciously forgave them all, 
on condition that Robin gave up this lawless life and 
went back with him to take service at the court. 

Robin dutifully consented ; then, the king and his 
knights having exchanged their monkish disguise for 
more seemly garments of Lincoln green, they all rode 
together to Nottingham, shooting by the way “ pluck- 
buffet,” and neither king nor outlaw spared each other if 
it were the mischance of either to stand a hearty cuff. 
When they arrived, the townspeople were alarmed to see 
so many green coats, thinking the king had been killed 
and that Robin Hood now came to sack the town. 


73 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


“Full hastily they began to fly. 

Both yeomen and knaves, 

And old wives that might evil go. 

They hopped on their staves. 

“ The king laughed full fast. 

And commanded them again; 

When they saw our comely king, 

I wis they were full fain.” 

In short, all was now mirth and revelry at Nottingham, 
where the king in turn feasted his guests. Sir Richard 
got his lands again, and Robin Hood went up to London 
to dwell at the court. 

But here the doughty woodsman was like a bird in a 
cage. He pined after his free forest life; he could not 
feel at home where he might not hunt for his own dinner. 
He spent all his money with the open hand which came 
readily to one who had been so long in the way of re- 
plenishing his treasury by robbing a rich monk or two. 
His men fell away from him when he could no longer 
keep them. And at length, when he had lived at court 
little over a year, the chance sight of some young archers 
shooting one day reminded him how he had once been 
accounted the best bowman in England ; and he could no 
longer restrain his longing for the greenwood and the 
chase. Making excuse to the king of a pilgrimage, and 
getting leave to stay away no more than seven days, he 

74 


ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN. 

stole back to his old haunts for good and all. The first 
thing he did was to kill a deer; then he put his horn to 
his mouth, and at the well-remembered sound all the out- 
laws of the forest quickly gathered together, and ere long 
“ Seven score of wight young men 
Came ready in a row." 

With them he lived henceforth under the greenwood tree 
as of old, shooting the king’s deer, and defying the king’s 
officers — nay, paying no heed to the king’s own com- 
mand. No one durst meddle with him in the heart of 
the forest ; and there he might have lived on many a 
year, but that he was beguiled by a monk, as some say, 
or as others tell, by a woman, and that of his own kin. 

For Robin growing old, found his eye and hand failing 
him, so knew that he had fallen ill, and must seek the 
help of some cunning leech, such as were priests and 
nuns in those days. He betook himself, then, to the nun- 
nery at Kirkley, of which his cousin was Prioress, and 
begged her to bleed him for his health’s sake. But the 
false nun, set on to it by his enemies, was minded to 
bleed him to death who had so trusted himself in her 
hands. She locked him up in a private chamber, and let 
the vein run till next day at noon. In vain he tried to 
escape by the window; his strength was all ebbing 
away ; he could do no more than blow three w^eak blasts 
on his bugle horn. 


75 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

The faithful Little John heard from the forest, and 
knew his call — knew, too, by its feebleness that Robin 
must be near death. He hastened to Kirkley, where “he 
broke locks two , or three,” and made his way into that 
chamber in which Robin lay helpless. At the sight of 
his dying master, Little John fell on his knees, begging, in 
wrath and sorrow, for leave — 

“ ‘ To burn fair Kirkley Hall, 

And all their nunnery/ 

“ ‘Now nay, now nay/ quoth Robin Hood; 

‘ That boon Fll not grant thee; 

I never hurt woman in all my life. 

Nor man in woman’s company. 

e< ‘ I never hurt fair maid in all my time. 

Nor at my end shall it be. 

But give me my bent bow in my hand. 

And a broad arrow I’ll let flee; 

And where this arrow is taken up. 

There shall my grave digged be. 

“ ‘ Lay me a green sod under my head. 

And another at my feet; 

And lay my bent bow by my side. 

Which was my music sweet; 

And make my grave of gravel and green. 

Which is most right and meet/ 99 
76 


ROBIN HOOD AND HIS MERRY MEN 


So died Kobin Hood, as he had lived, and so was 
buried, and many there were to say a prayer over his 
grave. 

“ For he was a good outlaw. 

And did poor men much good.” 


77 


THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. 


An old Clock, that had stood for fifty years in a farm- 
er’s kitchen without giving its owner any cause of com- 
plaint, early one summer’s morning, before the family 
was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this the Dial-plate 
(if we may credit the fable) changed countenance with 
alarm ; the Hands made an ineffectual effort to continue 
their course ; the Wheels remained motionless with sur- 
prise; the Weights hung speechless. Each member felt 
disposed to lay the blame on the others. 

At length the Dial instituted a formal inquiry into the 
cause of the stop, when Hands, Wheels, Weights, with 
one voice protested their innocence. But now a faint 
tick was heard from the Pendulum, who thus spoke : 

“ I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present 
stoppage, and am willing, for the general satisfaction, to 
assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of tick- 
ing.” Upon hearing this the old Clock became so 
enraged that it was on the point of striking. 

“Lazy Wire !” exclaimed the Dial-plate. 

“As to that,” replied the Pendulum, “it is vastly easy 
for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as everybody 
knows, set yourself up above me — it is vastly easy for 
78 






THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. 


you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness — you who 
have nothing to do all your life but to stare people in 
the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that 
goes on in the kitchen. Think, I beseech you, how you 
would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and 
wag backward and forward year after year, as I do.” 

“As to that,” said the Dial, “is there not a window in 
your house on purpose for you to look through 2” 

“ But what of that 2” resumed the Pendulum. “ Al- 
though there is a window, I dare not stop, even for an 
instant, to look out. Besides, I am really weary of my 
way of life ; and, if you please, I’ll tell you how T I took 
this disgust at my employment. 

“ This morning I happened to be calculating how many 
times I should have to tick in the course only of the next 
twenty-four hours — perhaps some of you above there can 
tell me the exact sum 2” 

The Minute-hand, being quick at figures, instantly 
replied: “Eighty-six thousand four hundred times.” 

“Exactly so,” replied the Pendulum. 

“ Well, I appeal to you all if the thought of this was 
not enough to fatigue one? And when I began to mul- 
tiply the strokes of one day by those of months and 
years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the 
prospect; so, after a great deal of reasoning and hesita- 
tion, thought 1 to myself, i I’ll stop !’ ” 

79 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT 


The Dial could scarcely keep its countenance during 
this harangue; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied: 
“Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a 
useful, industrious person as yourself should have been 
overcome by this suggestion. 

“It is true, you have done a great deal of work in your 
time; so have we all, and are likely to do; and though 
this may fatigue us to think of, the question is, Will it 
fatigue us to do? Would you now do me the favor to 
give about half a dozen strokes, to illustrate my argu- 
ment ? 

The Pendulum complied, and ticked six times at 
its usual pace. 

“ Now,” resumed the Dial, “ was that exertion fatiguing 
to you ?” 

“Not in the least,” replied the Pendulum; “it is not 
of six strokes that I complain, nor yet of sixty, but of mil- 
lions.” 

“Very good,” replied the Dial; “but recollect that, 
although you may think of a million strokes in an instant, 
you are required to execute but oue; and that, however 
often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will 
always be given you to swing in.” 

“That consideration staggers me, 1 confess,” said the 
Pendulum. 

“Then I hope,” added the Dial-plate, “we shall all 
80 


THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. 


immediately return to our duty, for the people will lie in 
bed till noon if we stand idling thus.” 

Upon this, the Weights, who had never been accused 
of light conduct, used all their influence in urging him to 
proceed ; when, as with one consent, the Wheels began 
to turn, the Hands began to move, the Pendulum be- 
gan to swing, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever; 
while a beam of the rising sun, that streamed through a 
hole in the kitchen-shutter, shining full upon the Dial- 
plate, made it brighten up as if nothing had been the 
matter. 

When the farmer came down to breakfast he declared, 
upon looking at the Clock, that his watch had gained 
half an hour in the night. 

— Jane Taylor 


81 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN. 

Hamelin 'Town’s in Brunswick, 

By famous Hanover city ; 

The river Weser deep and wide 
Washes its walls on the southern side; 

A pleasanter spot you never spied ; 

But, when begins my ditty, 

Almost five hundred years ago, 

To see the townsfolk suffer so 
From vermin, was a pity. 

Eats ! 

They fought the dogs and killed the cats, 

And bit the babies in their cradles, 

And ate the cheeses out of the vats , 

And licked the soup from the cook’s own ladles, 
Split open the kegs of salted sprats, 

Made nests inside men’s Sunday hats, 

And even spoiled the women’s chats, 

By drowning their speaking 
With shrieking and squeaking 
In fifty different sharps and flats. 

82 



The Pied Piper of Hamelin. 






THE PIED PIPER OF H AMELIN. 


At last the people in a body 
To the Town-hall came flocking : 

“’Tis clear,” cried they, “our Mayor’s a noddy; 
And as for our Corporation — shocking 
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 
For dolts that can’t or won’t determine 
What’s best to rid us of our vermin ! 

You hope, because you’re old and obese, 
To find in the furry civic robe ease ! 

Rouse up, sirs ! Give your brains a racking 
To find the remedy we’re lacking, 

Or, sure as fate, we’ll send you packing!” 

At this the Mayor and Corporation 
Quaked with a mighty consternation. 

An hour they sat in council, 

At length the Mayor broke silence : 

“ For a guilder I’d my ermine gown sell ; 

I wish I were a mile hence ! 

It’s easy to bid one rack one’s brain— 

I’m sure my poor head aches again, 

I’ve scratched it so, and all in vain. 

Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap !” 

Just as he said this, what should hap 
At the chamber door, but a gentle tap ? 

“ Bless us,” cried the Mayor, “ w r hat’s that ? 


83 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

Anything like the sound of a rat 
Makes my heart go pika-pat ! 

“ Come in !” the Mayor cried, looking bigger ; 

And in did come the strangest figure ! 

His queer long coat from heel to head 
Was half of yellow, and half of red ; 

And he himself was tall and thin, 

With sharp blue eyes each like a pin, 

And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, 

No tuft on cheek, nor beard on chin, 

But lips where smiles went out and in — 

There was no guessing his kith and kin ! 

And nobody could enough admire 
The tall man and his quaint attire : 

Quoth one, “It’s as if my great-grandsire, 

Starting up at the trump of Doom’s tone, 

Had walked this way from his painted tombstone !” 

He advanced to the council table : 

And, “ Please your honors,” said he, “I’m able, 

By means of a secret charm, to draw 
All creatures living beneath the sun, 

That creep, or swim, or fly, or run. 

After me so as you never saw ! 

And I chiefly use my charm 
On creatures that do people harm, 

84 


THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN. 


The mole, the toad, the newt, the viper ; 

And people call me the Pied Piper. 

Yet,” said he, “poor piper as I am, 

In Tartary I freed the Cham, 

Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats; 

I eased in Asia the Nizam 

Of a monstrous brood of vampyre bats : 

And as for what your brain bewilders, 

If I can rid your town of rats 

Will you give a thousand guilders ?” 

“ One ? fifty thousand !” was the exclamation 
Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. 

Into the street the Piper stept, 

Smiling first a little smile, 

As if he knew what magic slept 
In his quiet pipe the while; 

Then like a musical adept, 

To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, 

And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, 
Like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled ; 

And ere three shrill notes the pipe had uttered, 
You heard as if an army muttered; 

And the muttering grew to a grumbling ; 

And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; 
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling — 
85 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, 
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, 
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, 

Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, 

Cocking tails, and pricking whiskers, 

Families by tens and dozens, 

Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives — 

Followed the Piper for their lives. 

From street to street he piped, advancing, 

And step for step they followed dancing, 

Until they came to the river Weser, 

Wherein all plunged and perished, 

Save one, who stout as Julius Caesar, 

Swam across, and lived to carry 
(As he the manuscript he cherished) 

To Bat-land home his commentary, 

Which w r as, “ At the first shrill notes of the pipe, 
I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, 

And putting apples wondrous ripe 
Into a cider press’s gripe ; 

And a moving away of pickle-tub boards, 

And a leaving ajar of conserve cupboards, 

And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks, 

And a breaking the hoops of butter casks ; 

And it seemed as if a voice 
(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery 
86 


THE PIED PIPER OF HA ME LIN. 

Is breathed) called out, 0 rats, rejoice ! 

The world is grown to one vast drysaltery ! 

So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, 
Breakfast, dinner, supper, luncheon ! 

And just as a bulky sugar puncheon, 

All ready staved, like a great sun shone 
Glorious, scarce an inch before me, 

Just as methought it said, ‘Come, bore me !’ 

— I found the Weser rolling o’er me.” 

You should have heard the Hamelin people 
Binging the bells till they rocked the steeple ; 

“ Go,” cried the Mayor, “and get long poles ! 

Poke out the nests, and block up the holes ! 

Consult with carpenters and builders, 

And leave in our town not even a trace 
Of the rats !” When suddenly, up the face 
Of the Piper perked in the market-place, 

With a “First, if you please, my thousand guilders !” 
A thousand guilders ! The Mayor looked blue, 

So did the Corporation too. 

For council dinners made rare havock 
With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Ilock ; 

And half the money would replenish 
Their cellar’s biggest butt with Rhenish. 

To pay this sum to a wandering fellow 
With a gypsy coat of red and yellow ! 

87 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 


“ Besides/’ quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink, 
11 Our business was done at the river’s brink ; 

We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, 

And what’s dead can’t come to life, I think. 

So, friend, we’re not the folks to shrink 

From the duty of giving you something for drink, 

And a matter of money to put in your poke ; 

But, as for the guilders, w'hat we spoke 
Of them, as you very well know, was in joke — 
Beside, our losses have made us thrifty : 

A thousand guilders ! come, take fifty !” 

The Piper’s face fell, and he cried, 

“ No trifling ! I can’t wait beside ! 

I’ve promised to visit by dinner-time 

Bagdat, and accept the prime 

Of the head-cook’s pottage, all he’s rich in, 

For having left in the caliph’s kitchen, 

Of a nest of scorpions no survivor. 

With him I proved no bargain-driver, 

With you, don’t think I’ll bate a stiver ! 

And folks who put me in a passion 
May find me pipe to another fashion.” 

“ How ?” cried the Mayor, “ d’ye think I’ll brook 
Being worse treated than a cook? 

Insulted by a lazy ribald 

With idle pipe and vesture piebald ? 

88 


THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIJST. 


You threaten us, fellow ? Do your worst, 

Blow your pipe there till you burst.” 

Once more he stept into the street, 

And to his lips again 

Laid his long pipe of smooth, straight cane ; 

And ere he blew three notes (such sweet 
Soft notes as yet musician’s cunning 
Never gave the enraptured air), 

There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling, 

Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, 
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, 
Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, 
And like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering 
Out came the children running : 

All the little boys and girls, 

With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, 

And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, 

Tripping and skipping ran merrily after 

The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. 

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood 
As if they were changed into blocks of wood, 

Unable to move a step, or cry 

To the children merrily skipping by — 

And could only follow with the eye 
That joyous crowd at the Piper’s back. 

And now the Mayor was on the rack, 

89 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT. 

And the wretched Council’s bosoms beat, 

As the Piper turned from the High Street 
To where the Weser rolled its waters 
Right in the way of their sons and daughters ! 
However he turned from south to west, 

And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 

And after him the children pressed ; 

Great was the joy in every breast. 

1 He never can cross that mighty top ; 

He’s forced to let the piping drop, 

And we shall see our children stop !” 

When, lo ! as they reached the mountain’s side, 

A wondrous portal opened wide, 

As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed ; 

And the Piper advanced, and the children followed, 
And when all were in to the very last, 

The door in the mountain side shtit fast. 

Did I say, all? No ! One was lame, 

And could not dance the whole of the way ; 

And in after years, if you would blame 
His sadness, he was used to say — 
u It’s dull in our town since my playmates left ! 

I can’t forget that I’m bereft 
Of all the pleasant sights they see, 

Which the Piper also promised me : 


90 


THE PIED PIPER OF H AMELIN. 


For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, 

Joining the town and just at hand, 

Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew, 

And flowers put forth a fairer hue, 

And everything was strange and new; 

The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, 
And their dogs outran our fallow-deer, 

And honey-bees had lost their stings, 

And horses were born with eagles’ wings ; 

And just as I became assured 
My lame foot would be speedily cured, 

The music stopped and I stood still, 

And found myself outside the hill, 

Left alone against my will, 

To go now limpiug as before, 

And never hear of that country more !” 

The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south 
To offer the Piper by word of mouth, 

Wherever it was man’s lot to find him, 
Silver and gold to his heart’s content, 

If he’d only return the way he went, 

And bring the children behind him. 

But when they saw ’twas a lost endeavor, 

And piper and dancers were gone forever, 

They made a decree that lawyers never 
Should think their records dated duly, 


91 


TOLD IN THE TWILIGHT 

If after the day of the month and year 
These words did not as well appear, 

“ And so long after what happened here 
On the twenty-second of July, 

Thirteen hundred and seventy -six 
And the better in memory to fix 
The place of the children’s last retreat, 
They called it the Pied Piper’s Street — 
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor, 
Was sure for the future to lose his labor. 
Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern 

To shock with mirth a street so solemn ; 
But opposite the place of the cavern 
They wrote the story on a column, 

And on the great church window painted 
The same, to make the world acquainted 
How their children were stolen away ; 

And there it stands to this very day. 

And I must not omit to say 

That in Transylvania there’s a tribe 

Of alien people, that ascribe 

The outlandish ways and dress 

On which their neighbors lay such stress, 

To their fathers and mothers having risen 

Out of some subterraneous prison 


92 


THE PIED PIPER OF H AMELIN. 


Into which they were trepanned 
Long ago in a mighty band, 

Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, 

But how or why, they don’t understand. 

So, Willy, let you and me be wipers 
Of scores out with all men — especially pipers, 

And whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice 
If we’ve promised them aught, let us keep our promise. 

— Robert Browning. 


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